Broken Doll
by kuroyume-96
Summary: What can one do if the doll is broken? Call the help of a toymaker of course! That is exactly what the Undertaker does. But are those troubles that our arrogant toymaker is facing while fixing the broken doll? My view of how things could've worked out if Joker survived the fire… WARNING: this thing contains spoilers! and the manga arcs aren't really in a chronological order


The man pinned the last of his orange strands up and looked at his reflection. The few scratches that covered his usually flawless skin were almost gone. The man sighed. He was lucky he didn't get any burns, what actually was a miracle if you consider the fact that he was inside the burning mansion during the 'incident'. Just a few weeks ago, he would've paint a light-blue tear right under his left eye, but now there wasn't any reason to do so.

'Oh Jo – ker! Soon we'll get some clieeeents!'

The door cracked open and a silver –haired man entered the room. As always, is signature Cheshire smile was his face. A light chuckle escaped Jokers lips. Joker? Could he even be called by that name now? It used to be a stage name that has grown onto him. But now, there wasn't anything to joke about. The only thing that made him keep the pseudonym was the fact that he detested his given name. The Undertaker came closer. He didn't care if you were busy, still in bed or just didn't want the man around. If the Undertaker wanted to say something, he would say it no matter what.

'Now pleaaaase serve some tea today. You're waaaaay better at preparing that kinda stuuuuff! And not to forget, the ladies love you! Even though you insist to keep your prosthetic in _that_ shape.'

The last sentence came out less enthusiastic and loud. But it was true; Joker was rather charming. He had beautiful long orange hair bleached at the tips, was well mannered and he knew how to handle clients. On the outside you could say that the 'incident' with the circus didn't left a trace on Joker. Everything was pretty much the same, even his prosthetic in the form of a skeleton arm. Once again, the man insisted to keep it in that shape, what the Undertaker did find rather amusing. However, his prosthetic gave Joker a different feeling than the previous one; it was lighter and felt more like a real arm. And besides, the Undertaker used different material to make it, that the Joker made sure. The only two things that changed in the man's appearance were his clothes and his eyes. His piercing purple eyes that sparkled just a few weeks ago became dull. They revealed that on the inside Joker was broken. That was the only thing about the young man that didn't please his savior. Everything else about him was not to blame. Now and then the man would even force a sad smile to comfort the grieving relatives of the Undertaker's clients.

And today was no different. A young girl, barely nineteen, was enchanted by his smile. She was the daughter of the late earl, which happened to be the Undertakers client for the day. She came together with her mother to arrange some things for the funeral and fell under Joker's spell. Too bad for her it wasn't a real smile, too bad for her he didn't care, too bad for her he forgot how to love. But why not let the delusional child live her fantasies?

* * *

_Heath and pain. That's what he felt then. The flames surrounded him and were creeping closer every minute. Every breath cost him a lot of effort. He was loosing too much blood. He was no longer confused or angry – it did not matter any longer. He was just desperate. How was he going to die? Get burned? Suffocate? Blood loss? Neither of them seemed pleasant. If he would've only listened to Beast. If he could only get up and run away. If, if, if…_

'_Now, now, now, you look rather pathetic, my dear.' A mocking voice interrupted Joker's chain of thoughts. With some effort he lifted his head up. Before him stood a tall silver – haired – man in a black robe with piercing bright yellow – green eyes. "They look more like bloody red" the thought flashed through the ringleader's mind. Out of nowhere the man took out some file and scrolled with his eyes through it._

'_Well, well, born on the 2__nd__ of April 1863…you must be an Aries…hmp…was abandoned by Karen Taylor…lived at the East End…not interesting, not interesting…hmp...what's this? Your birth name is unknown even to the Grimm Reapers. Well, that's rather amusing!' _

_Joker realized that it was his file, but what was the weirdo getting at? The silver – haired continued to enumerate various facts about Jokers life, until he finally looked up from the writings. _

'_The 9__th__ of February 1889…you're destined to die here, my dear.' Joker's eyes reflected fear, what didn't go unnoticed by the mysterious man. _

'_I see you're not reaaaaaally fond of the idea….hehehehe….what would you do if I said that I can help? Help you escape this doomed fate? Hmp, my dear? Would you take my hand?' _

_The always – smiling man reached out his hand towards the ringleader. "Why?" was the question the younger man wanted to ask. But it didn't matter at the moment. This was an answer to his prayer. With his last strength Joker reached out his left arm. But before he could take the hand, everything went black. He collapsed right into the arms of the Grimm Reaper. The shinigami's smile winded (if it was even possible,)_

'_Noooow, that's a good boy.' With those words he tossed Joker's file in to the flames._

_The first few days Joker has been completely bedridden. That night he has lost too much blood and now every movement cost him a lot of strength. Joker's impotence didn't bother his savior at all. Quit the contrarily, the man found it rather amusing to have a doll. When Joker was finely able to walk, he requested to be taken to a church. He never asked about the troupe's fate; it was all crystal clear to him. And it was clear to him that they died in the Underworld, so no one would bother to give them a proper funeral. That day he lit 6 candles and prayed silently for his late family. His long hair wasn't braided or pinned up. If not for the long bangs that covered the most part of his face, you could've see a lost expression that the man was wearing. "Why did it have to end for them like that? Why couldn't I just go against father's will? Why?" these thoughts kept grudging his mind. _

_The Undertaker was waiting for him at the Church's graveyard. Besides the Cheshire smile, nothing of his face was visible. The only time Joker saw the eyes of the retired Grimm Reaper was that horrible night. _

'_Fufufufufu…you look less like a broken toy and more like a human now. Did we decide to avenge some friends? Y'know I'm not obligated to help you, unlike a certain butler we both know.' _

_Joker clicked his tongue 'Even if I would want to avenge someone, I wouldn't ask the help of a Grimm Reaper. Using others for this kinda of thing makes me sick. And I'm not planning to devote the rest of my life to something so foolish as revenge. No matter how hard I would try, I would never be able to win against that sort of butler.' _

_For a moment the man got the Undertaker dumbfounded. This was the first time the Grimm Reaper heard Joker speak so many words in one row. Most of the time the young man had kept quiet. The orange – haired was well informed about the shinigami – matters and Ciel's devil butler. What kind of excuse could one think of for appearing in the middle of a burning mansion and saving the destined – to – die? Besides Joker was no fool. _

_Joker's gaze fell upon the gravestone. It told him that there was a certain '__Angelina Dalles-Burnett' lying under it. _

'_Fufufufufu…you see, my dear, she was a fine noble lady. To bad fate played a cruel trick on her. But if our earl wouldn't be surrounded by those kind of people, he wouldn't be our earl.' The Undertaker chuckled. _

'_She was close to the earl?' 'Hehehehehehe…his dear aunt.' The Grimm Reaper pointed towards another gravestone. _

'_I was requested by the earl to built that grave. The girl has been killed by Jack the Ripper and had no family here. Soooooo our earl took care of her grave. Now, isn't thaaaaat sweeet?' Joker didn't answer, only mumbled something that could've been taken for "so he is still a child"._

_The moment Joker was able to stand without the need for the Undertaker to catch him (at first he used to collapse sometimes), he begun to work as the silver – haired's assistant. He didn't have longer anywhere to go and even if he did, it's unlikely the Undertaker would let him. There certainly must been a reason for him saving the ringleader._

* * *

The raindrops slashed hard against the window, what made it impossible to see the stars. Joker was dusting the bookshelves in the Undertakers 'office'. The man himself sat behind his desk and chuckled from time to time. Except the pouring rain and the Undertakers giggles, the room was silent.

'I guess we'll be having more clients tonight. Sooooo you better prepare some of your _delicious _moelleux au chocolat. You can say that one of them has a sweet tooth.' Those words were fallowed by a light chuckle. Joker raised an eyebrow, but didn't turn to the Undertaker:

'Clients at this hour? 'tain't to be a little late for sweets lovers?' Joker still associated sugar with children. Children should be seeing dreams now, but everything was possible.

'Hehehehehee…this isn't any ordinary client. This will be muuuuuch more interesting. He is our _mutual_ friend at last.' For a moment Jokers eyes did wide, but when he turned to face the shinigami, his face didn't betray any emotion.

'I assume ye and me got only one mutual friend. A certain earl, I reckon.' The silver – haired only chuckled in response.

Undertaker's predictions turned out to be right; after an hour the front door opened and a young, not all too happy looking, boy came in. A tall man in black carrying an umbrella fallowed him. Out of habit the boy shouted 'Undertaker!' only to raise an eyebrow

'Huh? You're not hiding?' A giggle escaped the Undertaker's lips: 'Fufufufu….does your lordship finally feel like stepping into the coffin that I've made specially for yooooou?' The boy's annoyed expression told him that didn't feel like it. The Undertaker sighed.

'Oh never mind that than! Just let's hear what kinda business brought you here on this _lovely_ night? Hehehehehe' The earl looked even more annoyed now, but did as he was offered.

'Now,' Ciel cleared his throat, 'I want you to make a coffin for Sebastian.' By hearing his name, Sebastian lightly bowed his head.

'Now, now, you're pretty bad in plotting to kill your butler, if you let him hear your plans.'

'I am not plotting to kill anybody! Why can't you just hear me out till the end?!'' the young earl snapped. It was late and he didn't feel like dealing with annoying freaks tonight. He would rather return to his manor at once.

'You see,' the boy regained his calm tone, ' due some circumstances, the world thinks Sebastian is dead. I want you to bury him and when the bell rings, dig the coffin up again. And I don't want you to ask anything.' The Undertaker burst out in laughter, which annoyed Ciel greatly. The earl was ready to snap again, but was calmed by his butler's hand on his shoulder and the words 'young master'. After a few minutes the Undertaker regained his senses and the room felt quiet. It was rather a long silence. The silver – haired man watched the annoyed earl in amusement as he pushed his long bangs away and revealed his eyes. It was clear the boy who was so used to luxurious lifestyles didn't want to be in such a place. That's why it was fun to keep silent. And he could tell that the butler also enjoyed seeing his master grow impatient.

Finally the Grimm Reaper broke the silence: 'It is no my job to know the motives behind your deeds, earl Phantomhive. I won't ask the reason behind your oh – so – unusual request. But would you be able to pay the fee? Fufufufufu…'

'Isn't my request amusing enough?' Ciel had been expecting something like that. A few giggles escaped the Undertakers lips.

'Fine! Sebastian!' The butler cracked his knuckles: 'Yes my lord.'

'Oh no, my earl, not today.' the Undertaker put his index finger in the air. Both Ciel and Sebastian stared dumbfounded at the Grimm Reaper. Was he refusing amusement?

'You see, my dear earl Phantomhive, the fee will be _slightly_ different today.' If this surprised the earl, he was thunderstruck with what came next. The kitchen door opened and Ciel's eyes grew wider (if that even possible).

Joker entered the room carrying a tray with tea and sweets. He set it on the coffin – like table and bowed lightly to the earl and his butler. His purple eyes met the boy's blue ones. With a demon butler by his side, Ciel almost forgot what fear feels like, but those purple eyes send shivers down his spine. They were empty, hollow, dead, yet piercing and cruel. For a moment Ciel was speechless. His next phrase wasn't all too intelligent, but at the moment those were the only words he managed to say: 'You were supposed to be dead!'

'Now, now, my dear earl, isn't that a little bit ruuuuuude?' Joker didn't pay much attention to the still dumbfounded earl and the amused Undertaker. He just carried on with pouring tea for his savior's guests. When Joker set the teacup in front of him, the boy regained his calm voice: 'So Undertaker, you found yourself a butler?'

'Fufufufu…that is a nobleman's luxury. I have no eye for such thing.' The Undertaker walked behind Joker and put one hand on the young man's shoulder. With the index finger of his other hand he poked Joker's cheek. Not hard enough to hurt him, but hard enough to make the long nail tangible.

'You seee, lord Phantomhive, my dear boy here is too good for hell, but because of a few circumstances the path to heaven is closed for him. For now at least it is.' The Undertaker closed his eyes for a moment and then continued: 'A few years ago I happened to witness a performance of a _certain_ circus, which was rather amusing. But the most amusing of them, the jewel of the show was the ringleader! His ability of bestowing people with laughter was amazing! Right then I fell in love with it! And to loose such a beauty would amount to a loss of this world!' careful not to leave a scratch, the Undertaker stroke Joker's cheek with his nail. The silver – haired admired his "jewel" for a few moments. Joker himself didn't move a muscle and continued to blankly stare before him.

'But,' and here the Undertaker's eyes narrowed and he looked towards Ciel, 'you killed it. His smile is no longer there. I – want – you – to – return – it.' The last sentence was almost spelled out. For the second time that night, the young earl felt something familiar to fear.

'So you're basically saying that today's fee is to make sir Ringleader laugh?' stated Sebastian.

'You're a sharp one master Butler. If you don't pay the price, I'm afraid we'll be having trouble maintaining friends.' The Undertaker released joker from his 'embrace'.

'You picked up a broken doll and now want me to fix it? Don't make _me_ laugh.' The arrogance and pride was back in Ciel's voice. The phrase that was meant to hurt Joker seemed to completely slip the man away, much to the earl's annoyance. The Undertaker grabbed the boy's face.

'Well, lord earl, it's only fair, y'know? _Your lordship _was the one who broke my doll. And what kind of a toymaker are you, if you can't fix one single toy?' the Undertaker kept smiling. If Ciel hadn't been blinded by the challenging undertone, he could've made up how ice cold and lethal Undertaker's words were. But the great earl still was a child. A child that was too proud and hated loosing.

'HA! You want me to pay the price? Fine! I'll pay it! I'll make that jester laugh for you!' A light chuckle escaped Jokers lips. His pokerface disappeared and he was now wearing a rather mocking expression: 'I'd like to see ye try, _Smile_.'


End file.
